


The Twentieth Sentinel Tidbits File by Many and Varied

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Series: The Senad Sentinel Tidbits Files by Many and Varied [20]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Senslash Fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:57:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist





	The Twentieth Sentinel Tidbits File by Many and Varied

## The Twentieth Sentinel Tidbits File

by Many and Varied

Author's disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, these tidbits aren't mine.  
Anyone who sues over this stuff, needs their head examined.  


Pairing: J/B - mostly  
Rating: The whole range 

* * *

Tidbit #1 

Blair closed the door behind him with a bang and tossed his keys in the basket. "I'm home," he called up to his lover. 

"Yeah, I know." Jim's voice floated down the stairs. "I got a bone to pick with you." 

Recognising the tone Blair sighed in resignation. "Lecture mode engaged." Blair pantomimed pushing a button. 

"You bet it is." Jim strode down the stairs. "The bathroom this morning, Chief-" 

"Oh, again with the bathroom?" Blair threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. 

"If you'd only use the spray like I asked-" 

"I use the spray!" Blair interrupted again. "Is it my fault that I live with a man who can smell a bumblebee fart?" 

"I'm warning you, Chief, shape up or I'll start using my nickname for you at work." 

Blair froze, his mouth open in shock. "You... wouldn't?" He whispered. 

"Oh, you bet I would." Jim grinned evilly. "Stinky." 

The End 

Gillian 

* * *

Tidbit #2 

Here's a song I had fun rewriting and changing the words around (so much for originality). It's based on the song, "Friend Like Me". 

##  Tribe Like Us 

(sung to the tune of Disney's Aladdin: "Friend Like Me")

Well, the Incans had Machu Picchu  
The Maya had them a Chichen Itza  
But Blair, dear you're in luck 'cause on your sleeves  
You got a brand of armor never fails  
You got some power in your corner now  
Some heavy ammunition in your camp  
You got some punch, pizzazz, yahoo and how  
See, you gotta bat those big puppy dog eyes  
And we'll say  
Blair, dear Are you there?  
What will your pleasure be?  
Let us obey your order  
Chant it out loud  
You ain't never had a Tribe like us  
Jim is our Sentinel  
We're your Warriors  
C'mon whisper what it is you want  
You ain't never had a Tribe like us  
Yes, Blair we pride ourselves on service  
You're the Chief  
The Guide, the Shaman  
Say what you wish  
Its yours! True dish  
How about a little more mussels?  
Have some of column "A"  
Try all of column "B"  
We're in the mood to help you dude  
You ain't never had a Tribe like us  
Can they do this?  
Do they do that?  
Do they stuff their enemies down their little pit?  
Can they shoot?  
Well, looky here  
Can they draw their bows and draw it tight, let'er rip  
And then shoot the suckers to death?  
So doncha sit there slack-jawed, buggy eyed  
We're here to answer all your midday prayers  
You got us bona fide, certified  
You got a Tribe for your charge d'affaires  
We got a powerful urge to help you out So whatcha wish? We really wanna know  
You got a list that's three miles long, no doubt  
Well, you gotta bat those blue eyes like so-and oh  
Blair, dear Are you there? You have nothing else to fear  
We're on the job, you big nabob  
You ain't never had a Tribe, never had a Tribe  
You ain't never had a Tribe, never had a Tribe  
You ain't never had a Tribe like us  
You ain't never had a Tribe like us, hah! 

Carol - has deemed herself the Official Jaguar Tracker I'm the only one who can keep up with them big kitties. They sure can move really fast for their size. 

* * *

Tidbit #3 

[e-mail sent to Blair Sandburg] 

To: BSandburg@anthro.rainier.edu  
From: old-college-pal@long.time.no.see.org  
Re: Trauma and Sentinels 

Hey, Blair! I know I haven't been in touch in a while, but I learned some interesting info today and thought of you. I was at an infant-development conference, and one of the presenters was talking about how trauma affects attachment in children. One of her tangents reminded me of that stupid Sentinel theory you were forever babbling on about when we were in college <eg>. 

She said that infants and toddlers who have been traumatized--either by a pattern of abuse, or by prolonged exposure to violence, like children who grow up in war-torn countries--tend to exhibit a series of behaviors, one of which is what's called hyper-vigilance. That means that they are constantly monitoring their environment for sensory clues to danger. Such children are always on the alert for input from their environment which would alert them to approaching danger. They are always hyper-aroused, and are often unable to relax enough even to sleep. 

That led me wonder about what a child who was genetically predisposed to have Sentinel abilities, who also had a traumatic history, would be like. It seems to me that such a child--call him Jimmy--would be forced by his hyper- vigilance to manifest his Sentinel abilities even as a young child. You know, always watching, listening, for whatever would set Dad off and lead to an attack. 

On a related note, traumatized children like Jimmy are also at risk for disrupted attachments. Jimmy learns that he cannot rely on his primary caregiver, who may be the abuser, or someone who is absent or unable to protect him from abuse. As he grows older, it's possible that, unless Jimmy meets someone who is able to provide him with a stable attachment object who will nurture and protect him, he will be a loner, mistrustful and suspicious of the people around him, and always waiting for the next blow to fall. Add Sentinel abilities to _that_ \--feeling different, isolated, even freakish--and imagine what an unhappy life poor Jimmy would lead. He needs a partner, someone to whom he can relate, who can guide him and help him to make sense of his disordered world (that's even without Sentinel abilities). 

Luckily, there's hope for kids--and adults--like Jimmy. A type of holding therapy, combined with a stable, nurturing partner, can help to mitigate the effects of early trauma and disrupted attachment. 

Wouldn't that make an interesting side-note for your thesis? That is, if Sentinels existed to begin with. <beg>

Anyway, Blair, keep in touch! Let me know how you're doing, and what you're up to. I'd say I'd come visit, but I value my life. I've heard bad things can happen to long-lost friends of yours! Take care! 

Ailish 

* * *

Tidbit #4 

Drove behind a Mercedes today with the license plate frame "Fitness is my business", and tangented off to this... 

ObSenad: 

Blair stepped into the bedroom of his newest client, Jim Ellison. He was used to working with Type A personalities; it was, after all, the backbone of his business. He loved the challenge. 

"Hello, Mr. Ellison. I'm sure your doctor has told you that this heart attack was a warning. I'm here to help you recover from it, and more importantly, I'm here to make sure you _don't_ have another one." 

Ellison frowned up at him from the hospital bed that had been moved into his home against his wishes. It had been a compromise -- the hospital bed and live-in nurse, or stay at the hospital. And Jim hated that hospital. This heart attack had done little more than infuriate him. His body had betrayed him, and he hated that feeling. And now, this kid was supposed to be in charge of his physical therapy. Ellison wished that it was possible to simply buy a new body and start up right where he'd left off. 

"Dr. Shalica gave me the basics of your physical condition; you do realize you're very lucky, don't you? Most men would love to have your heart rate, muscle tone, and general level of health. It's the blood pressure that got you; that, and family history. So, while we can't change genetics, we can change the blood pressure." 

Blair had read the chart, but he had still been impressed with actually meeting Ellison. Flat on his back in bed, he was imposing. Blair could only imagine how formidable the man had been (would be, again) in fighting trim. 

* * *

Sorry I don't have more done on this one, or more time to write it tonight, but I don't. It's one of these things where I had to send it out now, or I'd forget, I know I would. (It's been two days since I ran out of gingko! Er, at least I -think- it's two days.... ;) ) 

Ann 

* * *

Tidbit #5 

(really long) obsenad: 

"Hey Jim!" 

Jim Ellison looked up from his desk as his mate slammed through the loft door, bounced up the stairs, gave him a quick kiss and flopped down on the bed. 

"Hi Chief. How was the first day of class?" 

"Okay, man, but weird," Blair yawned, stretching out sideways across the bed with boneless grace. His curly head hung over the edge of the bed, upside down. 

"Weird? Weird how?" 

"Well, usually, I only get freshman and the occasional senior. But this time, I've got a bunch of old geezers in class!" 

Jim chuckled, "Old geezers? Chief, what are you talking about? I thought you were teaching 'Intro to Anthropology' this semester." 

Blair rolled over on his stomach and looked up at his mate. "Yeah man, I am. But the University created this new program that let's older people, you know, who have already finished college or grad school, come back and take courses." 

"So?" Jim turned back to the file he was typing. 

"Soooo, this semester, I've got _three_ of these 'Special', um, 'Pseudo Graduate Student', uh..." groping for the right term, Blair struggled to kick off his shoes without untying them. 

"'Graduate Special Students', Chief." 

"Uh, yeah, right, exactly!" The gym shoes finally hit the floor with a thump. "I've got three of these 'Graduate Special Students' in my class." 

"Just how old are we talking here, huh Sandburg?" Saving his file, Jim turned in his seat to face his lover. 

"Oh, thirty at least." 

Jim laughed outright, " _Thirty_! Jeez, we really _are_ talking geezers here, aren't we? And here, I thought these people were just 80 year old blue-haired grannies! Thirty is positively _ancient_!" 

Blair had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. 

"I don't see the problem, Sandburg," Jim leaned forward and continued. "I mean, here you have some motivated students who _want_ to learn--" 

"Well, see, Jim--" 

"Who are interrupting or changing their careers--possibly making major sacrifices--just to return to school and study something that fascinates them--" 

"--the freshmen are concerned that these folks are going to be real 'curve breakers', you know--" 

"And paying _full_ tuition, mind you!" 

"--And several frosh came up to me to find out if these GSS students scores are going to be factored into--" 

Jim crossed his arms and pinned his mate with a hard stare. "Blair Sandburg. You're always going on and on about how unmotivated your 'Intro' students are. How they see college as some four year long party! And here, you've got three people, with actual experiences in industry, Chief. People who've been teachers, lawyers, massage therapists, garbage collectors, _cops_ , you name it! Folks who have been 'around the block' a few times, played the game and now have the chance to put their energies into something really meaningful to them." 

Blair didn't bother to interrupt this time, he just gaped, more than a little amazed at Jim's uncharacteristic outburst, and now that he thought about it, more than a little suspicious, too. 

"Hell, I'd think you'd find something like this program _intriguing_. You know 'what motivates a person with a good salary, who's achieved a high level of professional standing, to ditch it all and go back to school?' I'm sure you could figure out a way to turn it into a paper. You know, 'The Socially Stabilizing Effects of Older Students on Classroom Dynamics' or something? And here, all you can do is complain about is how they'll _ruin the curve_?!!" 

Suspicions confirmed, Blair sat up and stared hard at his lover, "Jim, what's going on here? Just how the hell do _you_ know so much about this program?" 

Jim Ellison, big, buff, ex-Covert-Ops macho 'Cascade Detective of the Year' averted his eyes, gnawed on his lower lip and _blushed_. "Well..." 

Blair quickly rolled off the bed and riffled through the papers on Jim's desk, despite his mate's frantic attempts to hide the evidence. "And just what is this? What exactly are you working on over here?" 

"Stay the hell away from that, Sandburg!" 

"College _transcripts_? Hey man, pretty impressive GPA. An _application_ form?" Blair's roving gaze settled on the computer monitor where stars were currently flying past at warp-speed, courtesy of the screen saver. "And just what are you hiding here?" A punch of a key brought a file provocatively labeled "Statement of Purpose" into view. 

Now resigned to his fate, Jim ran hands through his cropped hair and sighed. 

"Jim? *You're* applying to this program aren't you?" A slightly chagrined nod was his answer. 

"But, I thought you _loved_ being a cop. I mean, you've spent like your whole career in military-style organizations, defending the tribe, keeping the streets safe, and all that. You're _excellent_ at it. You've got the best arrest and conviction rate. You've got commendations from here to next year, man. I mean, I'm just stunned that you'd turn your back on an entire lifetime of--" 

Jim held up his hand, "Blair, breathe." Clasping his hands in his lap, he continued, "It's like this, lover: I'm not going to be able to chase down crooks _all_ my life." 

Leaning against the desk, Blair offered a wry smile, "Yeah, and...?" 

"And I'm not really into all the bureaucratic crap and political finessing that comes with 'moving up', being a department head. I can _do_ it, I've _done_ , sure. I can even do it _well_. But, honestly, I'm much better suited for fieldwork than sitting at a desk." 

Blair chuckled, talk about your understatements of the year! 

"And lately, well, wrestling one more sleaze-bag to the pavement just doesn't have quite the appeal that it once had." 

The smile faded, this was serious. Blair, took his lover's hand and led him to sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing small circles on the broad palm. "Jim, when did all this start? Why didn't you tell me you were feeling this way?" 

"I don't know, Chief. I guess I wasn't too certain about it until recently, and I wanted to, you know, see what my options were, before I made any life-changing decisions." 

"And you thought I wouldn't understand?" Blair pressed. 

"Hell, Blair, I'm not sure _I_ understand it. I guess, seeing how enthusiastic you get about learning and teaching, well, _I_ wanted to experience that too. You know, *I'd* like to get so enthusiastic about something again." Jim squirmed a bit, staring at their clasped hands. "And when you got your Ph.D., I started thinking about my professional life and, well...you're right, I _have_ spent my entire career as, more or less, a cop. I'm good at it, it's always come so easily for me. And it's a respected profession." Jim stood and restlessly paced at the end of the bed. "But, when I was a kid, I had other interests, too, you know? Like painting, writing, history, architecture..." 

Blair was stunned, trying to picture Jim as anything other than the highly trained soldier and detective he knew so well. Trying to imagine him as an author, a teacher, a scientist, something different. It was surprisingly easy to imagine that intensity, focus, drive directed in other ways. 

"It's been so long since I, well, _connected_ with those other parts of myself..." Embarrassed, Jim paused. "I know it's different, and it seems strange. Crazy even. But, I think that I owe to myself to do this. To see if there's subject out there that makes my eyes light up the way yours do when you start discussing some tribe or ritual or artifact." 

Worried blue-eyes begged Blair to understand and accept. Standing, Blair wrapped his arms around his lover and squeezed tightly. "Anything that you want to do, Jim, well, I'm behind you all the way. Never doubt it." 

Smiling in relief, Jim released the tension that had gathered when Blair stumbled upon his 'secret', "Thanks, Blair." 

Stretching up for a brief kiss, Blair smiled. "No problem, man. Anyway, now I make enough money now to support us both, if you want to go back to school full-time!" 

Jim watched in amusement as Blair towed him back to the desk, tackling this new turn of events with his usual enthusiasm. 

"Now, Jim. When's the application deadline? What classes are you planning to take? Do you need letters of recommendation? Are you gonna take a leave of absence from the PD? Do you need any help with that 'Statement of Purpose'? I've written a few of my own, you know..." 

boyd 

* * *

Tidbit #6 

"Hey, Jim." 

The detective looked up from his computer at the soft call. 

"What, Chief?" 

"Did you ever think about getting rings?" 

"Rings?" 

"Yeah, you know. Like wedding rings. I mean, as far as I'm concerned, we're married. Even if the government is too stupid to let us do it officially. So... so what do you think about rings?" 

The big man's face softened as he took in the hopeful look his lover was giving him. 

"I'd love to wear your ring, Babe." 

The anthropologist beamed, and then his look turned thoughtful. "You know, I wonder how many other gay men wear rings? Cause after all, most of them grew up expecting to wear one, one day, even if the giver wasn't what they were expecting." He thought some more. "And if they do, do they do the standard gold-ring-on-the-left-hand bit or do they do something else? I bet they'd be surprisingly traditional. Hey Jim, you're done with me for today, right? I'm gonna go to the library and do some research. See you later, okay? Maybe we'll hit the mall. I think Reed's is having a sale." 

And he grabbed his pack and coat, and, with a brief caress of the older man's shoulder, was off. 

Regina 

* * *

Tidbit #7 

OBsenad: 

"Woah, woah, Chief. Wait a minute! You're not going out like that are you?" Jim asked as Blair came out of his room with a shiny lime green shirt on and yellow shades. 

"Huh? Oh, this. Well, there's a '70's retro going on at the school. I thought I'd show some school spirit," Blair explained. 

"Oh," Jim said walking up to Blair, observing his outfit a little closer. He smiled. 

"What?" Blair said. 

Jim reached out and ran a finger over Blair's left tit. "You can see your nipple ring through this." 

"Mmmm, oh, man. Jim, Jim... oh." 

Jim bent over and placed his lips over the enticing nipple, pulling at the metal ring through the material. 

"Oh, god," Blair said. 

"I like the way this feels," Jim said running his other hand over Blair's chest, enjoying the silky fabric against his palm. "Ooops." 

"What?" 

"I left a wet spot on your shirt," Jim smiled. 

Blair looked down at the darkened fabric, the moist cloth stimulating his nipple. "Man, you are just incorrigible, you know that. Come on, I've got to get going. Why don't you come with me, you're off tonight. I've seen some of those clothes you still have in the basement storage. Old days of Vice, hmmm?" Blair teased. "Come on, I've got another pair of shades too. We'll be a hit." 

"I'd rather stay here and wet your nipple some more," Jim said going for the other tit. 

"Nah, nah, no, later with that, man. Come on. Let's get you dressed." Blair drug Jim down to the basement to go through his old stuff. I don't know if they ever made it to the party on time. But they made quite a pair once they got there. 

Moz 

* * *

Tidbit #8 

Short Fic Offering 

"Wow, what a view!" Jim Ellison exclaimed as he and Sandburg exited onto the outdoor observation deck of the CN Tower. He immediately moved forward to the railing and gazed out eagerly over the panorama of Toronto spread out before him, with Lake Ontario at his back. "Wow!" he repeated, at a loss for words. 

"Yeah, great view..." 

Jim looked up at the tremour in Sandburg's voice. The young man was plastered against the inner wall of the tower, his face pasty and his eyes squeezed shut. The Sentinel could hear Blair's heart pounding frantically. At once he lost all interest in the stunning view and moved straight to his lover's side, taking the trembling hands into his own. 

"Chief, are you all right? What's wrong?" 

"Nothing!" Blair muttered. He took a deep breath, then opened his eyes. "You know how I feel about heights..." 

The tall man draped a casual arm over Sandburg's shoulder and gave him a sardonic look. "Unless I was imagining things, it was your idea to come up here, Chief. I distinctly remember your enthusiasm about this being the tallest free-standing structure in the world." 

"Errr, yes..." 

"So?" 

"So?" Blair echoed back, his sapphire blue eyes wide in his most 'innocent' mode. He allowed his full lower lip to take on a sensual pout. 

"So..." Jim leaned forward and placed an index finger on the pert nose. Blair sighed. "So I couldn't pass up this unique opportunity for some tests of your Sentinel abilities." 

Jim's jaw dropped open. "Tests?" he squeaked. 

"Yes, like how far you can actually see from this far up? And how much can feel of the tower's natural sway? And can you pick out what directions odors are coming from? And..." 

Ellison cut his Guide off in mid-spate. "I should have guessed," he groaned. 

He gazed at the anthropologist through heavily lidded eyes, then gave an evil grin. "Okay." 

"Okay?" Blair repeated back, obviously at a loss at Jim's immediate capitulation. 

"Just one condition," Jim stipulated. "You have to be right beside me the whole time." Tightening his hug, he dragged the reluctant young man over to the railing. "And I want to stand right here where I can enjoy the view while I'm 'working'..." 

Blair swallowed audibly, "Agreed." 

Jim smiled back with an evil gleam in his eyes. For once he was really going to enjoy one of his Guide's testing sessions... 

Kay Lynne 

* * *

Tidbit #9 

Obsenad: 

Argh! 

What's wrong, Chief? 

I'm responding to an article on the cultural significance of Webster's dictionary and the bleeping spell checker keeps telling me that my quotes have spelling errors. That color doesn't have a letter u in it. 

Well it doesn't, Chief, except in the Canada, the UK and stuff. 

I know that, Jim, but my point is Webster itself includes all the British spellings as correct so why doesn't the spell checker? 

Hmmmmmmm 

**FIN**

Eileen 

* * *

Tidbit #10 

ObSenad: 

_Crash_ "Ow!" 

"Chief?" called Jim. He craned his neck back from his slouch on the sofa, trying to see into Blair's office. "You okay?" 

"Yeah, man, I'm fine. Just dumped three year's worth of 'Anthropologist Global' on my head, that's all," Jim's partner yelled back. 

Jim groaned. Over his head and across the floor, no doubt, as if that office weren't messy enough already. "Dare I ask why?" he asked, and found that he was getting up from his comfortable sprawl to check on his accident-prone lover. Blessed Protector to the rescue and all that. 

Blair was seated cross-legged on the floor, surrounded not only by three year's worth of his magazine but also by the rest of the books from the top two shelves of the wooden bookshelf by the door. He was leafing through one of the journals happily, and looked up as Jim approached to wave it at him. "Oh, hey, look what I found!" he enthused. "The marriage rites of this tribe where they have all of these special rules for who can be married that cover just about everything _but_ gender-- um," he broke off as Jim's expression registered. "Anyway. I found what I was looking for, too," he said, "it's the first part of this article on warrior initiations that was published last year. The second part just came out and I'd forgotten which issue the first part was in. But look," and he waved a second magazine up at Jim, "I found it!" He put the magazine down and looked more closely at the sentinel in the doorway. "Everything okay, Jim?" 

Jim sighed mournfully. "You're going to be up all night, reading each one of these before you put it away again, aren't you?" 

Blair blinked at him, pulled off his glasses, and shook free of the piled journals to rise to his feet. "Aw, man," he said, but there was a hint of a playful pout pulling at the corners of his lips, "are you going to get jealous of my work again?" Jim looked down at his feet and didn't answer. "Oh, Jim," he heard Blair sigh, "man, sometimes you just kill me." Without any warning, Blair was suddenly in his arms, tongue parting his lips and pulling him so deeply into the kiss that he nearly zoned on the roar of blood rushing to his head (and elsewhere). When Blair released him, he could only lean against the doorjamb and try to breathe. "Because, babe, no old manuscript is gonna do _that_ to me," his incorrigible partner continued. Warm fingers caressed the line of his jaw, and he opened his eyes to meet his lover's gaze. "By the way," Blair added, "have I told you recently how sexy that pout is?" 

With a growl, the sentinel picked his guide up and carried him out of the office, dropped him on the sofa, and pounced. "Darlin'," he breathed in Blair's ear, "I'm going to start a story right here, about the mating habits of the urban sentinel, and _I_ am not going to stop until we're both happy with the ending. Doesn't that deserve your attention?" 

"Oh yeah," replied Blair, as Jim began speaking with his hands. "Oh gods yes, yes, yes, yes... Oh, Jim, yeeeeeeees!" 

\--cmshaw 

* * *

End Sentinel Tidbits File #20.

 


End file.
